


Emperors in the Old Routine

by lovethecoat51



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:28:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2626778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethecoat51/pseuds/lovethecoat51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2626724">Six Months Gone</a>"</p><p>After Children of Earth, John has to put Jack back together</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I need you. Find me."

That was the message he sent John. He couldn't even manage a holomessage, it was a stupid, old fashioned text. Talk about low tech. But he was on the verge of tears by the time he rematerialized in Captain Rana's ship and didn't have the time to worry about the means. He just needed to get the message across.

It took John three days. Jack half-expected him to never turn up. But when he heard those familiar engines tearing through the ion reef, he knew it couldn't be anyone else. And when those familiar engines almost crashed into the ship with "Jessica" scrawled in bright red letters across the bow...yeah, it had to be John.

And a good thing, too, Jack didn't know how much more he could take. That's why he called him in the first place. John was the only person he know of who wouldn't get all judgmental over what he had to do to stop the 456. And that was what he needed.

As Jessica docked alongside the Napoleon, Jack practiced what he'd say to John in his head. The second they were alone, he'd spill the whole story. Everything.

Things didn't quite work out that way. The whole crew assembled in the cargo bay to greet John. And the second Jack laid eyes on him, his mind went blank. The problem was that he wasn't just looking at John. No, he was looking at him, and Ianto, and Gwen, and Tosh and Owen and Gray and Suzie and...everyone. And it hit him harder than a speeding semi. He felt red and raw, like someone had ripped a whole body bandage off without any warning.

John must have noticed the look as strode onboard, not glancing at Rana or any of the other crew but going straight for Jack.

"You know, it'd be easier to find you if you had that ring on," he said lightly.

Jack couldn't form a single response.

"Alright, let's hear it, what was so catastrophic that you changed your mind about that hellhole? Eyecandy turn you down for a pity shag?"

Oh, a response came that time. "Drop it, John," he growled. That familiar rage was building up inside him again; he needed to shut up before Jack did something they both regretted.

Luckily, John took the hint and yanked him towards his ship. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him, but I'll be taking over from here," he called back to the stunned crew.

Ten minutes later, they were putting as much distance between them and the Milky Way as the little Sylvan ship could give them. Jack sincerely hoped that he'd never see that galaxy ever again. Too many memories. It was time he branched out of there anyway. They had the whole universe ahead of them, why stay in that little backwater dump?

It's not like he'd miss the place, anyway. He wasn't wondering how Martha was coping with married life, or if Mickey had blown anything up in his absence, or what Sarah Jane was up to. Of course he wasn't. He didn't care whether or not Ian was feeling any better since the last time he saw him. He never crossed his mind. So what if Jackie's flat probably needed the windows replaced? Not his problem. He couldn't care less how all the Torchwood branches were holding up. They weren't his concern anymore. Just move on and enjoy what you got, Jack. It's better than nothing.

Not to imply that cruising the stars with John wasn't great. Jack had actually missed it more than he cared to admit, but it just didn't feel right. It wasn't like it used to be; both men had changed since then, and their Time Agency days were far behind them. They'd been through too much to be quite as carefree and daring as they once were. It wasn't a comforting thought to either of them.

But Jack would be able to get out of this funk, there was no doubt in John's mind. The last time he'd seen Jack this upset was the whole memory loss all those years ago, and while John wasn't too keen to repeat that experience, the fact that Jack had actually bothered to call him said something. It meant that this wasn't as serious, he just needed a break. Right?

 


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks passed. It soon became clear to John that this wasn't just a passing fad. Jack wasn't pulling himself back together, he wasn't showing any signs that this storm was close to passing. It was a little unsettling, to be honest. If one thing in the whole universe was steady as a rock, it was Jack; being a fixed point in time tends to help with that.

But he wasn't himself anymore. He had changed, and not for the better. Jack had transformed from the loud, brashy rogue that you couldn't help but fall in love with to a withdrawn, melancholy recluse who hardly even smiled. John barely recognized him some days, but he was going to do him damnedest to get his Jack back.

That's how they ended up in a bar on the outskirts of the Brassine vector. If John couldn't get him to spill soberly, a few drinks should get him going. And this particular bar was rough enough that things got a little out of hand, it wouldn't exactly be noticed.

Jack carelessly threw his greatcoat over a stool and sat down, ordering a whole slew of shots. John slid onto the seat next to him, matching his order before turning to Jack with a raised eyebrow. "Nice to see you finally loosen up a little, but the act only goes so far. You gonna tell me what's eating away at you yet?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," was Jack's only answer, carefully avoiding John's gaze as he swallowed down the first three glasses set in front of him.

"Right, you normally ignore a Velusian when they're flirting with you."

Jack blinked at him.

"I'm not blind, though you suddenly seem to be. Three stops ago. We were in that diner, about ready to ditch the place when a whole group of them came over. You had one in your lap, practically naked, and you shot her down. That's not you, no matter how upset you are. Now tell me."

"She wasn't my type," Jack shrugged.

John snorted. "If it's moving, it's your type. Look, you know this isn't my style, trying to get someone to open up, so give it up already."

No response that time.

John sighed. "I'm not gonna bloody beg, you ponce." And with that, he casually swept a hand across the bar and knocked half a dozen shot glasses onto Jack's coat. Jack didn't even flinch as the liquid seeped into the fabric.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough, Jack. Something's wrong and you're not going to get any better until you deal with it. So spill already before you have a coronary."

With the alcohol finally hitting his system and hazing his mind over, Jack took a deep breath. "Alright. Just to stop your-"

A drunk stumbled into Jack, cutting him off and shoving him face-first into the drinks in front of him. "Sorry about that, mate," the man said apologetically.

Jack turned and stood up, his eyes dark with fury. He grabbed the drunk's shirt and dragged him close. "Watch where you're going, mate," he growled.

"Leave it, Jack, you're supposed to be the straight-laced one, remember? Not the loose canon," John cut in, trying to stop the situation before he himself lost control. It'd been a long time since he'd seen Jack all but start a fight, and if it actually came to blows, there was no way John could diffuse the situation, not even if he wanted to - which was almost never the case.

But the drunk was intent on doing himself no favors. "Listen to your boyfriend, you fairy," he said.

The next sound in the bar was the sickening crunch of a skull connecting with the bar. Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment, then a massive brawl broke out. Tables turned over, chairs were smashed, glasses broke, and it was only a matter of time before blood was flying, shortly followed by the sound of sirens.

Jack himself was covered in blood, and was about to deliver a fatal blow when four officers jumped him, pulling him off the barely conscious drunk. The bartender wasted no time in identifying him as the instigator of everything, and Jack was hauled down to the local jail. 

It was four hours before John was able to bail Jack out. When he finally reached his cell, Jack was sitting on a bench, staring at his hands. They were shaking again.

"This is a bit backwards, isn't it? You're supposed to be the one who bails me out, not the other way around," John said.

Jack looked up at him, and goddammit, there were tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I-" he managed, his voice trembling. But that was all he said before he took a deep breath and went back to staring at his hands.

"Brought you something." He held up Jack's coat, ripped to shreds and covered in all manner of filth. When Jack didn't answer, he threw it at him.

Jack caught the cloth in one hand, looked at it a moment, then crumpled it up as best he could and chucked it into the darkest corner of the cell.

John felt his heart sink. He walked over and knelt in front of Jack, taking both hands in his own. "Jack, I can't help you until you tell me what's wrong. And don't try to fool me, I'm not thick. You're not fine, something's actually managed to get to you. And whatever it was must have been big. So what's the story?"

"Not here," Jack sniffed. It was a reasonable request, one John obliged. He nodded, and they stood up and left the prison.

Neither spoke as they walked back to the ship. It gave Jack ample opportunity to shove his tears back down and get his emotions in check. Unfortunately, it meant that he was no longer in a very sharing mood. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the right words to start the nightmarish tale.

It seemed John had to wait a bit longer.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Another three weeks passed. Jack still hadn't found a way to tell him, despite John's increased nagging, and things were certainly not getting any less tense on the tiny ship.

While wandering the corridors on another brood-patrol, John happened across Jack in the medlab, hunched over a table filled with little jars and measuring spoons and beakers.

"Really, Jack, if you miss the greaseball that much, we can always swing by the castle. I'm sure he'll let you polish his wand," he said from the doorway.

Jack only grunted in return. This, of course, made John all the more curious and so he stepped closer, picking up a few of the bottles to look at their contents. It was about time Jack found a new way to release some of that angst. Drinking, fighting, and moping only got you so far - not to mention, it was irritating as hell for whoever had to put up with you.

"No, really, what are you making? Or, more to the point, what does it do and are you gonna save some for me?" John asked as he held a bottle of white crystalline powder up to the light. Then a label caught his eye. B67, it read. The bottle he had been holding shattered on the ground as he pulled Jack away from the counter and punched him square on his jaw.

Jack stumbled back a few paces, but still said nothing and went back to what he was doing before. Again, John shoved him away and swept all containers onto the floor, grabbing the one containing B67 and chucking it against the wall as hard as he could. "I'M NOT LETTING YOU DO IT!"

"Like you can really stop me," Jack spat out and hurled John as far away from him as he could.

John was back on him in a flash, grabbing a fist of hair and slamming Jack's head into the steel counter. "I'll do whatever I fucking have to, you're not bloody retconning yourself!"

"WATCH ME!" Jack stood back up and threw John into the wall, landing a few blows to John's gut before knocking him to his knees.

"Don't kid yourself, Jack, I don't even have all the ingredients." It was a lie, one he was sure Jack could normally see through, but he was trusting in Jack's little mental breakdown to keep him blinded from the truth.

"What's the worst that'll happen, I get the mix wrong and die?" He turned back to the table, ransacking the little bottles again.

"You and I both know there are worse things." John grabbed one of Jack's ankles, pulling it out from under him to send him crashing to the ground. Once he had Jack pinned, he slipped his arms through Jack's and clasped his hands together behind Jack's neck, trapping him in a full nelson. Slamming Jack's face into the ground again, he snarled, "Now tell me, what gave you the notion that erasing your whole life would be a good idea?"

"I can't go on like this forever!"

"No, you can't. So grow a pair already and tell me what's so bad that you're acting worse than a high school girl who didn't get asked to the bloody prom!"

Jack stopped struggling in the body lock. John hesitated, and when he was finally sure that Jack wouldn't simply dash back to the makeshift drug lab, he released him. He didn't catch it at first, but after a few minutes of watching him, ready to pin him to the floor again, John noticed the broad shoulders shaking. He suddenly became all too aware of the quiet sobs that were starting to grow and fill the small ship. He had never heard someone sound so broken before, so utterly and hopelessly lost, and to have Jack, of all people, be the one who was in that position... it was almost too much. He moved closer to him, tightly wrapping his arms around him once again, only this time Jack made no motion to stop him.

They sat there on the cold, metal floor of the medbay for hours, until John's legs were in so much pain, they were about to start a mutiny. Thankfully, Jack's tears were starting to dry and they were able to slowly stand up, finally moving towards their bedroom - and infinitely more comfortable surroundings.

They remained silent as they crawled under the sheets and Jack immediately latched on to John.

"Tell me what happened,"  John said, surprisingly gently.

Jack took a slow breath before he began, his voice croaking from exhaustion. "There were these aliens-"

"No! Really?"

"Shut up," Jack growled. "There were these aliens, they first came in 1965..."

And he told John the whole story. About the dozen children in the '60s, about the children across the world that stopped and spoke in unison, about Dr. Patanjali, about the Hub and the bomb in his gut, about the concrete grave (which even John winced at), about the 456's request, about Ianto, about Alice and Steven, about everything. He didn't spare John a single detail, a single moment, a single experience.

When Jack finished, John sat there in a stunned silence. He had guessed that whatever had happened had been unbelievable, but that... Well, to say it was the single most traumatic thing he'd ever heard was putting it lightly.

Not that he would actually tell Jack that. Instead, he held him close and quipped, "Bloody hell, I can't leave you alone, can I?"

"No," Jack replied, gripping him that much tighter. "You can't."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Things improved after that night. The ship was no longer dark and oppressive. Not to imply that the halls were filled with the sounds of laughter and sex, but it wasn't as suffocating as it had been since last they ventured near the Milky Way.

Jack's hands stopped shaking. He was eating again, flirting again, smiling again. When they went out, he was back to being the most charming person in whatever city they happened to visit. Men, women, and anything in between were fawning over him. He received more than a few marriage proposals, along with a few more interesting proposals, which he and John were only too happy to accept.

On board the ship was another story.

John still couldn't leave Jack alone for more than a few hours. The first time he did that, he came back to Jack cowering in the darkest corner of the ship, apologizing over and over and over again. He just couldn't snap out of it, not until John slapped him across the face and shoved his head into a bucket of ice water. But that only happened once. As time wore on, it became less of an hysterical fit and more of a shell-shocked sorrow that John would walk in on. Progress.

Unsurprisingly, nights were the worst. Or what passed for nights while roaming around space. Jack still wasn't sleeping, but that wasn't really anything new. John had almost grown used to it back at the Hub. Now, though, he could feel Jack's eyes staring at him as he tried to fall asleep. He'd snapped at Jack about it a few times, but Jack always looked like a kicked puppy after a scolding, so finally John figured he'd better get used to it. It never made it any less creepy, though.

Sometimes, he’d wake up to Jack clinging to him, ghostly white and trembling all over. He’d just sigh, say he loved him and all but he still needed to bloody breathe, and roll over, taking the quaking hulk in his arms again. Those nights became fewer and fewer, but they never went away.

For months, they trekked across the sky, stopping wherever and whenever they felt the whim. It was always the same: once they hit terra firma, Jack would be his normal self, putting up the front that all was well. But once they were back on the ship, safe inside Jessica, the image would slowly crumble away until it completely eroded away in the darkest hours of the night.

They eventually found themselves on the edge of the Wilend galaxy and decided to drop in, see what it looked like in this time period. The space station was busier than they remembered, but it wasn't long until they were in line to land. 

John had left the docking procedure to Jack - goddess knew it was about time he started pulling his weight around the ship. But forty-five minutes after leaving the cockpit and they still weren't parked meant something had happened.

He strode back into the room and found Jack sitting in one of the captain's chairs, utterly frozen in place. As he moved closer, he noticed that Jack was paler than normal, with a single tear tract streaking down his cheek. He reached out and shook Jack's shoulder. "Don't tell me you fell asleep at the wheel."

Still in a daze, Jack couldn't tear his eyes from the console in front of him. "It... I... He..." he stammered.

John sighed and pushed a button. "Control tower, this is _Jessica_."

"This is control tower," came the crackled response. "Continue."

"Just making sure we have docking permission."

"Permission granted. Whenever you're ready. Landing bay 456."

Ah. That certainly explained the sudden paralysis. "Roger that, we're on our way." John  flipped off the com and gave Jack another shove, collapsing into the chair next to him.

"You need to get over it."

Jack looked over at him, shock still written across his face. "It's not that easy, you know."

"Oh, I know. But really, how long are you going to sulk about it? You did what you had to do. No one blames you. Well, maybe that bitch you call your daughter does-"

"Hey!"

"What? It's the truth."

"You don't need to be so harsh." 

"If you want the sugar-coated version of things, you came to the wrong bloke. It happened. You did something terrible to save the world. I can't think of another person who would have been able to make that choice. But you did. Sure, you gotta live with the consequences and the guilt, but there's nothing that will change the fact that you were right."

Jack sat there in silence.

"Don't neglect the living because of the dead, Jack, or you're never gonna make it. Now go lay down, I'll take us in."

Jack got up and shuffled out of the room. John carefully watched the retreating figure - for more reasons than one. Turning back to the instrument panel in front of him, he called over his shoulder, "You owe me!" 


	5. Chapter 5

Three days later, they were ready to leave the little space station. It was Jack's turn to take them out, and John wasn't about to let him forget. But he couldn't find Jack. Not anywhere on the ship. Not in the kitchen, the medlab, the bedroom...nowhere. What a perfect time for the self-indulgent prick to just disappear, John ranted to himself as he frantically searched every inch of the ship.

In an act of desperation, he checked the engine room. A broad back was hunched over the engine.

"You know, not all of us are blessed with your little trick. If I die of a sodding heart attack, I'm not coming back," John snapped as he walked over and smacked Jack.

Jack flinched but didn't turn away from his work. "See you still haven't fixed that rotator disc."

"Had a few more pressing matters to attend to. Or do I really need to remind you of all that?"

"Yeah, well, it's almost fixed. Hand me those ion pliers, will you?"

John grumbled as he rifled through a drawer, then handed the pliers to Jack with a scowl.

Jack took it, hesitating before he said, "Thank you."

John rolled his eyes. "If you thank me every time I have you a tool, I'll kick your sorry ass off this ship."

"No, you idiot, thanks for... you know... stuff." Jack glanced at him briefly, hoping he caught the hint.

"Oh." It was John's turn to hesitate. "Yeah, well, it's what I'm here for, right? Put you back together when you decide it's time for one of your oh, so rare meltdowns."

"Couldn't think of anyone who'd do it better."

"That's 'cos no one else can handle you like that," John said with a smirk, trying to keep the tone light. "Bloody hell, Jack, I thought I was gonna off you a few times there, you were so bad."

"I'm surprised you didn't."

"So am I. Been around you too long, suddenly I feel _bad_  when I kill you."

Jack laughed, genuinely laughed, something he hadn't done in almost a year. "Don't tell me you've developed anything resembling a conscience."

"Don't insult me."

"Good. I'd hate to think you'd changed or something. I'd be tempted to trade you in for a newer model."

"Isn't that my line? I'm the one with the oldest tosser in the universe."

"Hey, at least I don't look it."

"Like I'd be standing here if you did."

Jack's grin mellowed a touch as he looked over at John. "I love you."

John just rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, now I know you're feeling better, we're back to the sentimental shite. Love you too, you wanker."

"Actually," Jack said as he stood up and stretched with a grin. "I thought I'd give you a night off from that."

"There's the Jack I know and love. I was beginning to worry you'd been replaced with one of the pod people, and I'd have to say, that might be a bit of a stumbling block in our relationship."

"Shut up, you asshole."

"Oi! I've been biting my tongue for four sodding months! I think I've earned it!"

"Oh, I'll show you what you've earned," Jack growled as he backed John towards a wall.

"I like the sound of that..." Just then, his back hit the wall and a small, square box dug into his back. And even though he groaned, Jack could tell it wasn't entirely a pleasant one.

"What, you get into another fight I need to clean up?"

"No, you queen," he said as he pulled the box out and tossed it to Jack. "I picked something up while you were in one of your moods."

Jack opened the box. It was a ring. A simple green stone, surrounded by gold petals. Identical to the one Jack had before. He looked up at John; John had that arrogant little smirk on his face, the one he got when he pulled a particularly special trick out of the bag.

"Can you believe it, I managed to dig one up," John said. "You're not ditching me that easy."

And as he slammed John against the wall, Jack decided it was time to pull out a few particularly special tricks of his own. It was only fair, right?

Oh yeah. Jack was back.

 

 


End file.
